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Herod
Herod
Mother bears her child
and prays the bright, guiding, light
is not a rocket.
Thursday 10th December 2015 4:19 pm
Twenty, One Line Poem
A ghostly Soldier, a Mother and babe alone, the price of freedom.
The chilled air rushes through the leaf strewn forest floor, winter's on its way.
A Mime make a rhyme, sure a Mime can make a rhyme, but who would hear it.
God is good and great, praise him now and don't be late, will decide Your fate.
The wind blows the snow into whirlin...
Wednesday 22nd July 2015 12:38 am
Summer Awhaikuing
Stronger in numbers;
the leaves a deaf audience
clapping spring's last bow.
Saturday 16th May 2015 9:53 am
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